


what we've got

by endofadream



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Barebacking, Come Eating, Kinda, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Bucky Barnes, Rimming, Rough Sex, a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:51:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofadream/pseuds/endofadream
Summary: “Was s’pposed to be next week,” Bucky mumbles. He’s shivering slightly, tiny ripples of vibration that shake the mattress as he pushes the covers the rest of the way back and rolls onto his side.





	what we've got

**Author's Note:**

> wow, hi. usually i don't do author's notes but it's been...well, awhile since i've posted anything. life has been rough and i haven't exactly been up for writing. i'm hoping things will even out soon!

Steve can smell it before he even opens his eyes. Still in the gray haze between sleep and consciousness his nostrils flare, scenting the room. His stomach jolts as that scent—browned butter, sugar-sweet caramel thick and hot—kickstarts his body’s own reaction of pheromones, spicy-sharp in contrast.

“Fuck,” he groans.

Beside him, on his back, Bucky whimpers. When the covers shift it sends a wave of his heat scent towards Steve, and it takes absolutely everything in him to not pin Bucky to the mattress and slide his hand between Bucky’s legs, seek out where he’s slick and desperate and work him to orgasm after trembling orgasm.

“Was s’pposed to be next week,” Bucky mumbles. He’s shivering slightly, tiny ripples of vibrations that shake the mattress as he pushes the covers the rest of the way back and rolls onto his side. Though it’s dark in their room Steve knows that Bucky’s eyes will be wide and nearly black, as will his own.

The knowledge that this is Bucky’s first heat out of isolation goes unspoken. Bucky’s heats still haven’t regulated, which the doctor said was normal given the dose of suppressants that HYDRA had him on. For now they’re more frequent as his body adjusts naturally. In the year that he’s been back he’s had months with two heats and months with none. They’ve gradually decreased in severity, though Steve knows he’ll never forget the first few, where Bucky was in so much pain he could barely move.

“You think they’d have sterilized the Winter Soldier,” Sam said grimly once, back when Bucky was still under observation in the medical wing at the compound and was rocked with waves of heat that left him half-out of his mind with desperation. Since Bucky was still deemed a threat, Steve wasn’t allowed in despite the bonding mark on Bucky’s neck, and every alpha instinct in him was bristling.

Steve shook his head and thought back to the files JARVIS had translated for him. Those pages kept him awake for days. Still did, some nights. “They needed him. They wanted to…”

Now, Steve pushes those thoughts away like he pushes the comforter to the very end of the bed. He rolls Bucky onto his back and cages him in, dropping his hips so they're pressed pajama pant to pajama pant.

Under him Bucky is searing hot, cock twitching sharply against Steve’s; he moans, grabbing at Steve’s naked back and rocking against him. He presses their mouths together a little too roughly, teeth digging into Steve’s bottom lip until iron spreads across their tongues.

“Shh,” Steve murmurs, “shh, baby, I got you. Okay? I’m gonna make you feel so, so good.” Petting back Bucky’s hair Steve noses at his chin, his jaw, down to the keloid scar over Bucky’s bonding gland. Still fits his bite perfectly; even after all these years the rush he gets when he remembers that he was the one who put it there, that Bucky is _his_ , never fades.

Steve had been a scrawny runt of an alpha back then, no physical indicator of his d-sig besides his temper, and even then plenty of omegas had the same thing. Though Steve hated it, Bucky always said it was his favorite thing about him. Something sappy about love not caring, or whatever.

Steve is bigger now, and arguably he could say that his love for Bucky is bigger, too, but they both know that would be a lie. What they got, whatever it can be described as, has always been bigger than both of them combined. It’s something that has spanned years, _decades_ , longer than any sinner like either of them has ever had the right to be happy.

When Steve bites down, lightly, just enough to put pressure on it, Bucky gasps. Immediately his hands are on the back of Steve’s head, keeping him there, his low groan rumbling against Steve’s lips.

“Steve,” Bucky says, desperate. “Steve, _alpha_ , please.”

Steve’s answering moan gets lost against Bucky’s skin, smothered there as Steve’s brain briefly shorts out. It’s been too long since Bucky’s called him that; the resulting surge of arousal mixed with possessiveness is nearly enough to drag Steve right over the edge then and there. He backs off, takes a few deep breaths to calm the roaring monster deep in his belly to little avail. At the scent of its omega in heat it only roars louder, demanding more.

“Steve?” Bucky sounds confused, lost, rejected. His mismatched hands fumble for Steve’s face, and for a moment Steve flinches at the cool touch of metal against his flushed skin. Then it regulates, body temperature transferring to the whir and click of metal plates, and Steve marginally relaxes.

“It’s okay,” says Steve, turning his head to kiss the warm palm of Bucky’s flesh hand, letting his lips drag over smooth-rough skin. “I—it’s just been awhile. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me,” Bucky replies insistently. “Whatever the Soldier was, whatever HYDRA did, they didn’t take this from me. Steve.” Bucky grabs Steve’s hand and leads it down, lifting his hips so Steve’s fingers can slide between his ass through his pajama pants, feel where they’re soaked through with Bucky’s slick.

“Feel that?” The hand still on Steve’s face gently directs him until he’s looking into Bucky’s eyes, navy blue in the dark and sharp despite the heat chills running fine tremors through Bucky’s body. “You won’t hurt me, I promise. Please.” Bucky’s voice breaks as he shudders. “Give me your knot, alpha.”

Steve swallows hard, then leans back. Alphas have two Voices: the commanding one that makes omegas immediately stop what they’re doing; and then gentler one that spurs them into consensual action rather than forcing it. It takes Steve a second to differentiate the two—the last time he’d used his Voice on Bucky had been during the war. Once he finds it he sits up on his knees, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. Reaching deep within himself he locks onto that thread of yielding steel and says, “ _Present_.”

Bucky’s obedience is as flawless as ever.

Before Steve has finished his command Bucky is rolling over, bracing himself on his elbows and shamelessly sticking his ass up in the air. He spreads his legs wide, dips his hips down, and god, Steve’s omega is so _good_.

The white cotton of Bucky’s pants is soaked, dark gray running from the seat down his left thigh. Spread open like this the sweet scent of his heat is stronger, filling the room and covering up the sharpness of Steve’s own arousal. Their cycles aren’t quite synced, so Steve isn’t in rut, but that’s a time-sensitive matter. He can feel it, working its way up from the very pit of his belly at every sighBucky lets out.

“Baby,” Steve coos, shuffling closer. He lays his hands on Bucky’s hips, fingertips brushing the thick waistband of Bucky’s sweats. “Look at you, my sweet omega. Presenting so _beautifully_ for me when I asked.”

Bucky keens, pushing back. “Steve,” he whines. His right hand clenches hard in the sheets, left still splayed palm-open. That’s the one Steve rests his own hand on, gently squeezing as his other works Bucky’s pants and underwear down his thighs.

Without a barrier the scent wraps itself around Steve, making him growl low and possessive in the back of his throat. Bucky lets out a trembling whine in response, and underneath his palm Steve can feel the flex of metal plates as Bucky shifts restlessly.

When Bucky’s sweats reach his knees Steve gently commands, “Up,” working the material past each knee as Bucky obediently lifts them. Once he’s bared completely Steve bends, gently kissing the curves of Bucky’s ass, murmuring praise as he gets closer to the warm cleft at the center.

Bucky draws in sharp, panting breaths as Steve gently spreads him, exposing the slicked pink furl of his hole. As Steve watches more of the slick builds, running in a fine line down the heavy hang of Bucky’s balls and beading at the seam between.

Steve follows the trail in reverse with the point of his tongue, flattening it when he reaches Bucky’s hole. Pressing sucking, lingering kisses, he moans against Bucky’s skin, arousal throbbing low at the base of his spine; he ignores that for now, focusing on licking sloppily at Bucky’s hole before slowly easing the tip of his tongue in.

Bucky shudders, crying out as his first orgasm rushes through him. It’s not enough, the first one of the heat never is, and when Bucky stops shaking Steve reaches a hand under to feel where Bucky is still hard and damp with his own come.

“S-Steve,” Bucky gasps brokenly. In response Steve runs his open hand along the length of Bucky’s cock, palming the head and sliding back down with a loose grip. “Oh—” Bucky’s hips jerk forward, then back against the open circle of Steve’s mouth, like he isn't sure where he wants to go more.

“Gonna make you come like this for me one more time,” Steve says, thumbing at Bucky’s perineum, rubbing as he licks back into Bucky’s hole, noisy and messy and so hot that Steve finally has to relent and bring a hand down to palm himself through his pants. Christ, he loves how fucking _wet_ his sweet little omega gets, so slick everywhere, voice so pretty as he begs and begs.

Steve pulls back to rub his soaked chin on Bucky’s left cheek, biting lightly. “Then I’m gonna fuck you, shove my big knot so deep inside it’s all you can feel.” Demonstratively, and because there is nothing Steve loves more than making Bucky fall apart, he ducks his head back down and shoves his tongue deep into Bucky’s hole.

Bucky trembles, clenching around the intrusion of Steve’s tongue. He pushes back, grinding against Steve’s face, and says, “Oh, yes, _yes_ , please, alpha.” Orgasm grabs him sharp and sudden and then his back pulling taut as he tosses his head back and keens, gasping out on a cracked breath “ _Breed me_.”

It has been so long— _decades_ —since those words have passed Bucky’s lips. The last time had been a fortnight before the mission to capture Zola, more ceremony than anything, and after…

It’s dark and chaotic and hellish. Steve had never thought he’d get to hear Bucky say those words again.

With a groan Steve presses his forehead to the small of Bucky’s back, feeling the aftershocks still twitching through Bucky’s body. This is what’s going to do him in, right here. Despite his strong new body, Steve feels as weak and feeble as he did back in the thirties, unsteady on his own feet like he’d just learned how to walk.

It’s almost like it’s their first time all over again, with the way the nerves and butterflies are jangling around inside Steve’s belly. Steve remembers it well, two coltish street kids who never should have gotten together in the first place, the opposites of what their d-sigs were supposed to look like. Bucky’s youthful face, wide eyes deep-set with world-weariness even then, jaw going slack as Steve pushed in—

When Steve reaches down to draw his cock out the rustle of fabric makes Bucky moan, a low sound that increases in volume as the sex scent of the room grows thicker. It’s the same as it was back then, throaty and rich and like it has a trigger directly on Steve’s cock.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, “ _Steve_ , c’mon.” The shift of muscle, and Steve lifts his head to see Bucky twisted and looking back at him, hair in his eyes and stuck across his sweaty forehead. He's so wildly beautiful like this, human nature at its basest. Steve would do anything to protect him.

Steve’s hands are unsteady as he shoves his pants and underwear down, throwing them somewhere off the side of the bed. It’s so tempting to take Bucky like this, back to front like instinct demands. The alpha in Steve is desperate for it, ready to mount his mate and stake his claim. But Steve is a romantic at heart, and being able to see Bucky like this, to scent his heat and _taste_ it, is something Steve has gone too long without.

He taps Bucky’s hip, orders, “On your back,” and Bucky moves with beautiful compliance, drawing Steve between his parted legs and pulling him down for a messy kiss. Steve slides searching fingers along the inside of Bucky’s thigh, running them down to the apex of his need, the slick trailing between his cheeks to pool warm and sticky on the sheets.

“Tell me you’re okay,” Steve murmurs breathlessly in between kisses. “Give me permission.”

Verbal communication isn't easy for either of them right now, especially at Steve’s descent into pre-rut at the sight and scent of his supine mate below him. But he needs to know—he needs to make sure that Bucky is safe, that he’s comfortable, that he's _ready_.

Bucky’s flesh hand combs through Steve’s hair, resting on the nape of his neck. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m—” He stops, then laughs, dragging Steve’s head closer to press their foreheads together. They breathe the same humid air and even after all this time the taste of Bucky’s mouth hasn’t changed. “I haven’t been this happy to be in heat in decades.”

Something about that little admission makes Steve’s heart jump in his chest; he kisses Bucky again, longer this time, deeper with gasping breaths and the slick suction of mouths. Bucky fumbles between them, finding Steve’s cock, fingers teasing at the loose circle of skin where his knot will swell. His knuckle rubs, dragging the skin gently and making Steve shudder hard.

“Tell me,” rasps Steve, pulling back to take in the pale night light that illuminates Bucky’s face.

Bucky stares, blinking once before tipping his head back onto the pillow, presenting his neck. All that smooth, pale skin, marred only by the pinkish marks of Steve’s own teeth turned alabaster in the light, sends Steve’s blood roaring red-hot.

“Take me,” Bucky says in that thin, fragile way omegas have. His scent soars, persuading Steve’s to do the same. It’s sweet and beautiful and home, and Bucky is looking up at him like Steve is everything his world revolves around.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Steve swears before shoving Bucky’s legs up and sliding home in one deep push.

Any residual worry Steve had about how Bucky might react goes out the window as soon as Bucky’s flesh hand rakes burning trails down Steve’s back. Bucky cinches his legs tight around Steve’s waist, keeping him pinned and unable to do more than grind and nudge Bucky’s prostate; he comes a third time like that, long hair fanned across the pillows, eyes screwed shut and mouth open as he gasps and writhes and paints slick white across his belly, spurt after apart until it slides into the undulating ridges of his muscles and gleams in the darkness.

Bucky’s legs go loose in the aftereffects, and Steve utilizes the moment to begin fucking into Bucky fast and hard. It doesn’t take long for Bucky’s low, even breaths to grow quick and harried again, his teeth bright white in the dim light as he bares them in pleasure.

“You’re so _wet_ ,” Steve moans, wondering how in the hell he’d forgotten this. It’s slick and lewd, each push into Bucky’s willing body, and if Steve wasn’t certain that his dreams were never something as good as this he would think that’s what it was.

“All for”—Bucky cuts off on a gasp, metal hand gripping the sheets tightly as his cock slaps slick against his belly—“ _you_ , alpha.”

Steve shuts his eyes at the shivery imaginary rake of nails down at his spine, pleasure coiling tight low in its base at Bucky’s _ruined_ omega voice. He bends to press their lips together again, desperate to kiss away every sound Bucky makes: every _uh_ , every _oh_ , every _please, please_.

Bucky’s flesh hand goes to his hair, pulling hard, the way Steve likes. It makes Steve moan and bite down on Bucky’s lower lip, his own hand tangling in Bucky’s long hair and pulling just as hard, dragging his head down the pillow. It exposes his throat, the jut of his Adam’s apple and way it bobs with every swallow.

Brows furrowed, Bucky gasps, “Harder,” and moans when Steve does. The metal of his shoulder is a beautifully dangerous glint as Bucky shifts his arm to grab the side of the mattress. The bed creaks its protest, nearly drowning out Bucky’s strangled moans.

Steve feels his knot beginning to swell; it drags against Bucky’s rim, growing bigger and bigger, and underneath him Bucky keens, arching up and fucking down on Steve’s cock in his own uninhibited counter-rhythm.

“In me, in me,” Bucky begs. “Oh, fuck, _yeah_ , Stevie, oh _fuck_.”

“Touch yourself,” breathes Steve. “Buck, god, I wanna see you touch yourself.” His knot, just beginning to swell, catches on Bucky’s rim in what Steve remembers is just the right amount of pain.

“Get that knot in me, baby,” Bucky says, hand on the back of Steve’s head. The kiss is messy and fierce, tongues sliding together, lips brushing when Bucky murmurs, “Fill me with your come, make me _yours_.”

Bucky fumbles to get his right hand on his cock, maneuvering between the strain of his thighs. He makes a show of it, gray eyes locked heated with Steve’s, one corner of his slick, kiss-reddened mouth curled up before it drops open in rapture. Steve’s name is a hot thing inside his mouth, as much an aphrodisiac as their combined scent.

Scooping up the backs of Bucky’s knees, Steve presses them high, up until Bucky’s groans become breathless and strained. The position doesn’t allow him to keep working himself over, but he’s close, Steve can tell; it won’t be long.

One last thrust, and Steve’s knot pops on the way in, stretching Bucky wide. The feral noise Bucky lets out as Steve locks deep makes every single alpha particle of Steve purr. His mate is below him, _knotted_ to him, lips pulled back and so sweet with heat’s urgency.

Steve bends, biting over Bucky’s bond mark again, snapping his hips forward and grinding deep. Lust and instinct, combined with pre-rut, win out; when Steve pulls away he manhandles Bucky onto his hands and knees, gripping his hips hard as he plasters himself over Bucky’s back.

A hand between Bucky’s legs, wrapping around Bucky’s _sweet_ little omega cock, is all it takes for him to come.

“Oh, _oh_ , fuck, Steve. _Steve_ ,” Bucky mewls, dropping to his elbows as he shakes, jerking hard in Steve’s grip and clenching around his knot. Steve works him through it, catching as much of Bucky’s come in his cupped palm as he can.

He’s on the fine line between orgasm, everything hazy and desperate and hot. Steve keeps the hand on Bucky’s hip as a steadying weight as Bucky gives one last jerk, then brings his other, viscous white dripping between the slats of his fingers, to Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky is always so pliant and sweet in the wake of knotting, and he doesn’t need to be directed: he opens his mouth, pretty pink tongue darting out, and Steve is gone. His orgasm hits him hard, pulled deep from within him in a supernova.

Steve thinks he cries out, thinks he says Bucky’s name like it’s all he’s got left of him—and ain’t that the truth? For so long Bucky was just a name, just a memory, just a shelved chapter of Steve’s life instead of his bonded. Sometimes it’s like Bucky really is all Steve’s got left, at least of a life that no one remembers.

By now, the light filtering in through the curtains is more silver than gray. It slants in across the floor, just barely kissing the edge of the bed where the comforter spills halfway onto the rug. Steve gently eases them both onto their sides, pressing his face into the sweat-damp hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck.

For long moments it’s just the sounds of their breathing and the faint bustle of early-morning commuters on the street below. Steve’s arm, slung around Bucky’s waist, presses his hand palm-flat to Bucky’s come-slick belly. Bucky shivers when Steve’s lips brush his bond mark.

The room smells of sex and heat, sated omega and happy alpha. Bucky’s hand catches Steve’s and he tangles their fingers together.

Bucky is the one to break the silence. “You didn't need to worry about me.”

“I did, though. After what you been through? Buck—”

“Don’t ‘Buck’ me.” Angling his head the best he can Bucky stares Steve in the eyes, one eyebrow raised. “If I couldn’t handle being out here I wouldn’t _be_ out here.” He wriggles his ass. “And I wouldn’t be _stuck_ to you neither, ya big idiot.”

Steve smiles, kissing Bucky’s hair as he chuckles. With his leg over Bucky’s thigh he thinks he’s got a pretty sweet deal, all things considered.

“Listen,” Bucky continues. He manages some deft twist that flips them, Steve on his back and Bucky straddling his waist. Like this, Bucky’s hair falls like dark curtains around his face. His hands, on Steve’s pecs, knead the supple muscle gently.

Steve cocks his own brow in return. “I’m all ears.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, and god, don’t that just reach straight into Steve’s chest to grab his heart. “I’m gonna say,” Bucky drawls, “that once your stupidly perfect alpha dick lets me go we go into the kitchen, grab food, and do this all over again. Sound good?”

The words are cocky, but the hesitance in Bucky’s eyes is not. Steve tucks Bucky’s hair behind his ear, drags the backs of his fingers along Bucky’s rough jawline. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is [here](https://endofadream.tumblr.com) and instagram is [here](https://instagram.com/wintersoldiered), if you’re into that sort of thing. i love discussing my works!


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